


Seasons in the Sins

by LosingInterest



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 10:38:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosingInterest/pseuds/LosingInterest
Summary: You, him, all twelves in between.





	Seasons in the Sins

You saw him within the explosion. People were counting down; three, two, one. You thought you've fallen but you fell. Deep and broken and loud. He didn't know, he never did. There were perhaps but you clung to what ifs. You wore your scars, beautiful toothy grin. You remembered all the pain, chained to your neck, a jewelry of war. You knew, yes, you did.

You met him in the throes of pink, basked in flowers and sweets. His blushing cheek, his sinful lips. His dance, his sound of greetings. And you wanted his wound, oh you needed his tears; those you knew how to fold and stop and store inside until you felt it clenched around your throat. You wanted, yes, you did.

You caught him in the beginning of Spring, laying in between petals and denial. Okay, he told you, it's okay. You believed then you didn't. That, or you just didn't wish to. There were thorns blossoming with roses. Storm was coming even though you knew it was impossible. The sky was clear and neither of you knew any better. Days were numbered, nights were limited. Clock didn't move backward, you knew, yes, you did.

You loved him in the abundant of cherry blossoms. You loved him in the run from the rain, you loved him sheltered under your blanket. You loved him in the past. You knew, yes, you did.

You found him in the Children's Festival, sparkling under the light, an honor to his admirer. He was loud and clear and yellow. He laughed until he couldn't. You breathed until you didn't. When you slept in his arms that night, you witnessed a firefly died. Sunrise wasn't great, not for a dreamer. You knew, yes, you did.

You greeted him when it's warmer temperature. He touched you with stories of a traveler, a lonely man living for a quest. There's nothing to worry about, he kissed, home is never too far away. You didn't say that distance was a knife in disguise. You didn't fill him with tales of how hopes could turn to dust, but you knew. God, you did.

He held in the heat of Summer. Thighs bracketing your waist, fingers tangled in your hair. His words were knife enough to rip you open, bleed you dry until those butterflies gone and drunk. Colorful messages later made up for it. Not that you could forget. Not that you would.

He left you for freedom. (As if hearts would ever forgive all those vows?). You raised your flag, proud and greedy; waving, waving, waves. Airplanes didn't leave smoke but you bid goodbye anyway, throwing bottles of wine and cigarettes. You didn't run, because. Not that you would.

He woke you up when it ended. Heatstroke, you realized, was frostbite's twin. There was sun outside but he was standing lone star under the canopy of your house, a place you couldn't call paradise no matter how many times you re-arranged your pieces. He stared at you for the longest time. You knew forever was a myth. So was everything, many times before. You wouldn't say, no.

You saw the ghost of him one morning, fell into piles of shadow, dancing in your living room. Your television made a terrible music but his moves were grace. You stole glances the way you couldn't steal his breaths. You filed moments because it's impossible to ask for any. You were thankful. He could've gone. You would be.

The leaves had stopped falling. He crushed their ugly grey with his palm then let them fall for the last time. Not too far, not that distance mattered. We, after all, only waited for that one more chance. At least, you would.

"We can't. This -this is not right. We can't be this anymore. Whatever this is. I can't even put a name on it, Jiyong. What are we? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? We're not...," He paused. "Nothing."  
You reached out to feel him slipping through your fingers.  
Love, you would say someday. Love, you wish you could.


End file.
